13 – The Tailor

The twang of steel vibrating in a solid surface sounded for the umpteenth time. It was accompanied by an irritable grunt and increasing profanity.

A wooden construct at the top of the steps into Sauren's bedchamber had taken a severe beating over the last few days. Gouges in the roughly built wooden target were too many to count, the shavings and splinters liberally littering the floor at its base.

Two days prior to that, he had been too weak to even sit up in his bed. Recovery from his wound had drained him of his usual sprightliness. Monotony had set in.

His condition had irked him to the point he was unusually foul-tempered. He'd demanded Don and Reed fetch one of the training dummies up from the stores for him to vent his anger.

Their efforts had received a few titters from those observing the rigmarole as they huffed and puffed their way across the dust and grit of the courtyard with the tripod target. The dummies were deceivingly heavy and it took the two boys a good half hour to drag it up the spiral stairs which led to their young master's chambers. Their effort resulted in chafed fingers and a few splinters.

Don had delivered an array of throwing knives to Sauren earlier and by the time they had the target in place, he was so primed and frustrated before they had a chance to move out the way he threw the first blade – and missed. He roared his fury and both boys ducked, dreading an onslaught of awry steel.

"I'm going to kill that bitch!" he snarled.

"Not like that, you ain't," Reed smirked pointing to the knife still twanging in the door frame.

Sauren's eyes flared with irritation. "Perhaps I should try a soft target first!" He flipped a knife in his hand, curling his fingers around the leather handle.

Reed ducked behind the target again more to hide his smirk than to shield himself from Sauren's ire. He waited until he heard the thud of the blade hitting the target before he came out from behind. Sauren's face was still like thunder but Reed was pretty confident the half-elf was not going to skewer him.

"Who's the bitch?" Don asked.

Sauren threw another blade. It landed to the outer ring of the target. The result infuriated him more. "Troll!"

"Okay! I was only asking," Don said with a shrug.

Sauren glared at him. "Not you, you fool! The bitch! She's a troll." Another blade whistled through the air and barely skiffed the top of the target. It fell and slid across the floor in the adjoining chamber. Sauren huffed and threw himself back onto his pillows a string of obscenities falling from his lips.

"Oh," Don nodded as he moved round the room collecting the three blades already cast.

Reed took a seat on the longue at the other side of the room. He sat lazily, resting an ankle on the matching footstool. He cupped his chin in his hand as he leaned on the armrest and watched Don retrieving the blades like a hunter's pet would a kill. It was hard to conceal a smirk at Sauren's pathetic throws and subsequent frustration but he quickly looked away when the mahogany eyes stared at him. His shoulders however, could not conceal his mirth.

Don dutifully gave Sauren the throwing knives back and stood aside.

The half-elf familiarised himself with one of the blades turning it over in his hand, slowly, methodically, testing its weight and balance. A sly grin crept over his face and he afforded a quick glance at Don. His friend suppressed a knowing smirk.

His eyes drifted back to the target. A moment of two passed as he lined up his shot. Then he threw the knife. It was still nowhere near the bulls-eye, but it was firmly embedded.

A snicker escaped from Reed.

"I'm just not getting the hang of this," Sauren said. "The last few days have taken their toll."

"No kidding," Reed said quietly, trying hard to keep the mirth from his voice.

Again, Sauren took his time calculating the throw. A second knife whistled through the air, this one landing nearer the centre, but still far from the half-elf's normal standard. He grunted. "Bring them to me, Reed," he said, indicating the knives in the target.

"Why don't you try another first?" Reed answered, reluctant to move from his comfortable position.

"I need to focus more and I favour those two best, so bring them over, please." Sauren's voice was measured.

Reed huffed and pushed himself up from the longue. He reached out to collect the first blade. As his hand closed around the handle, the dull thud and soft twang of steel sounded again. A third blade had pinned him to the target by his sleeve. "What are you doing?" His voice quivered as he turned towards the half-elf.

"Practicing," Sauren replied. His face was dark, not even a hint of humour rested in his eyes. He threw another knife. It landed next to the first one pinning Reed, its kiss of steel singing in the air.

"Stop it!" Reed whined.

"Not so amusing now, is it?" The half-elf pushed the covers back and rose from his bed. The bandage round his chest being the only thing he wore.

Reed watched nervously as Sauren tossed a blade in the air, caught it and threw it at the target again while he continued walking. Once more, the fabric of his shirt was pierced. The blade this time however, nicked his skin; the red stain slowly spreading either side of the steel.

Sauren grinned, walking casually towards his pinned henchman. He held another blade. Raising it to his lips, his tongue caressed the flat of the blade. Reed's eyes were fixed on him. The half-elf spoke, his voice loaded with impendence. "You did not make it into the Crimson Blade without my intervention, Reed. You were destined to be rejected."

The young man stilled, clearly surprised by this piece of news. He glanced at Don whose face gave nothing away.

"I saw your potential so I ensured you became part of our guild; not my father, nor his advisers. Me!" Sauren gloated. He stopped directly in front of the young rogue. Humiliation was ripe on Reed's face and in his slumped posture. "I could so easily have you sent back to your uncle, all shame-faced and a failure," Sauren said, yanking out the blade which had bled Reed's arm. He wiped the blade on Reed's shirt. "You will learn that you may laugh with me - but never at me. Do I make myself clear?"

Reed stared, his voice seemingly lost. Sauren held his gaze, the half-elven features sharp and unforgiving. The young henchman nodded curtly, duly chastised.

"I'm glad we have an understanding, Reed." Sauren removed the other blades including the ones he sent the young man to collect. "I would not have wanted to add you to the list."

"L - list?" Reed pulled up his sleeve and checked the cut. It was, thankfully, insignificant and would heal quick enough.

"The reason I wanted you in the first place," Sauren explained as he meandered over to the chair next to the window. He placed the blades on the seat then shrugged his way into his robe. Fastening the tie-belt securely around his waist he turned to face his two bodyguards. "Yes. Don will bring you up to speed on it. My recent experience has somewhat whetted my appetite for retribution."

Don came round the side of the bed, his face displaying enthusiasm. "We are going to get started then?"

Sauren smiled. "Yes. But that does not mean tonight or tomorrow or even next week. I want this done properly as I have already explained to you, Don."

Slightly deflated but nonetheless still encouraged, his friend nodded understanding. "I take it this troll you were on about is to be added to the list?"

The half-elf had moved towards the water closet but stopped on hearing Don's words. "No," he said after a few moments contemplation. "I will keep that one separate. In time ... but not for now."

"So what's the plan?"

Reed stood beside Don and waited for Sauren's reply. It was nothing like they expected.

The half-elf's lips broke into a grin, then a broad smile. "First I am going to relieve myself, wash and dress appropriately. I suggest you two do the same, for we, gentlemen, are going to visit some ladies."

Reed smiled, knowing the implication straight away. Don, on the other hand, looked at them both, a mixture of confusion and nervous anticipation on his face.

Sauren laughed. "I am not quite at my best yet to start eradicating imbeciles, Don. But, I am well enough for some carnal pleasure." He looked directly at Don. "And, we are going to finally get you laid as well."

A short time later, the three met in the courtyard, all washed and dressed. Sauren, impeccable as always, looked at his two sidekicks casting a critical eye over their appearance. Don had grown accustomed to Sauren's expectations and had learned a thing or two about making the most of himself, all thanks to his friend's advice. Reed, however, while not entirely boasting the country-bumpkin look, still had ample room for improvement.

"What?" he asked the half-elf, assessing the disapproving look.

"Have you nothing better?" Sauren asked, waving his hand over the youth's raiment.

Reed looked down; brown britches (one knee a little faded but not worn through yet), a light, ordinary shirt and a black tailcoat, which was missing a button and looked like the local cats had used it for a bed. He licked his palms and ran them over the coat, trying to dehair it as they spoke. "My family are not as affluent as yours Sauren, so no, I do not."

The half-elf's eyes narrowed just a little. "I was not passing judgement on your family's status Reed, I was merely enquiring if you had anything better in your closet."

Reed was still offended. "Well, nothing I seem to do pleases you. You are constantly critical, or bear a demeaning tone when you speak to me." Try though he did, he could not remove the whine in his voice.

Sauren turned to Don, a look of mock surprise on his face. "Am I that way with him?"

Don suppressed a smirk. "Yes - kind of."

"I see," the half-elf grinned then turned his attention back to the incensed Reed. "Well, I'm afraid you will have to get used to it until you improve. Don has managed and he was a very rough diamond to polish." The mahogany eyes flitted back to a rather perplexed Don who, a split second later, realised it was a jest. He hoped.

The second sidekick, however, was despondent and chose to stare at the sand and grit on the courtyard floor.

Sauren tutted and rolled his eyes. "Oh, for goodness sake, Reed. I am teasing you. Now buck up, we are going to purchase some new attire for you and then you will feel much better."

"Okay," came the mumbled response.

"And pick up that petted lip before I trip over it," Sauren finished as he started to walk away.

Reed turned his head just enough to eye the half-elf moving towards the portcullis. Don drew up beside him. "Is he always such a bastard?" he asked.

Don laughed a little, the sound making Reed stare at him slightly aghast. "You will get used to him. He has not been without hardship himself Reed, for all his father is wealthy. He has had to endure a lot of hatred from bigots since he was a small boy. Be loyal and you will be rewarded handsomely."

Reed took a deep breath. "Might take a while."

"Oh, I don't think so. You'll see."

They caught up with Sauren just as he left the grounds.

It was a little after midday when the three young rogues wandered down Merchant Lane in the city. The cobbled street boasted the finest hatters, cobblers, haberdashers and expensive outfitters in Azeroth since the great Stormwind had fallen in the war. As such, the proprietors were insistent that their street be immaculate so that clients did not drag muck and filth into their ostentatious establishments.

Reed had never seen such an abundance of finery before and certainly nothing so vulgarly priced as some of the items displayed in the shop windows. He had a little money on him, a month's allowance from his uncle, but that wouldn't even cover the cost of on one boot, let alone a pair.

His defeated expression did not go unnoticed. As he looked in one of the windows he watched as Sauren's reflection came up behind him. "What is the matter, Reed?" The half-elf's voice was low and husky.

Reed did not turn to face him nor did he meet his gaze in the glass. "I have insufficient funds for these things, Sauren. Is there nowhere else where I can find adequate clothing. Somewhere I can afford?"

The half-elf moved round to the young man's side. The close proximity forced him to look up. He was a little surprised to find a rather kindly face looking back at him; he had expected the mocking grin he was used to.

"Your money remains in your pocket, Reed. Your wardrobe for today is my responsibility."

Reed looked away, embarrassment swallowing him. "It will take me months to repay you."

Sauren laid a hand on his shoulder, commanding his attention again. "The only repayment I ask is your loyalty." The half-elf smiled. "I was recently called a conceited little bastard, a term which I am sure you are in agreement with."

Reed pursed his lips and stared at his feet. Sauren's laughter was not mocking nor reprimanding, it was friendly. Reed dared to look back up. He had not seen this side of Sauren before. Perhaps Don had been right – it would not take long to grow accustomed to him; maybe even like him.

"Well, I admit I can be," Sauren continued. "But I am also good to those who serve me well, to those who dedicate themselves to the guild no matter their station. So do not concern yourself with the trivial matter of money, Reed. If you prove to me that I was not mistaken in your potential, that will be repayment enough and you will, in time, make enough money to buy everything in this shop and more."

Sauren stepped back and gestured to the door. With a look of quiet gratitude, Reed moved forward and opened the door. The shopkeeper's small bell announced new custom had just arrived.

Don entered last and closed the door. The shop smelled of beeswax, the counters and shelves all having been vigorously polished and buffed. Along the top shelves an array of hats to accommodate whatever the occasion from casual to formal to downright pomposity. Sauren smirked a little as he thought of a pretentious mage who would have loved the one in red felt and gold brocade with the flamboyant feather in its band.

Beneath those an arrangement of cravats in all colours and quality fabric. Below those, jackets, coats and suits all hanging neatly, their cuffs pinned to the pocket seams to aid in their visual appeal.

A shuffle was heard and from a doorway behind the main counter and an elderly man appeared. He was a little stooped, but it did not slow his approach. His wispy grey hair floated around his head as he neared the three young men. He looked up at the half-elf. "Why if it isn't young Master Sauren. Oh, it has been a while since I last saw you."

Sauren bowed to the old man. "Indeed it has, Mr Atherton. I take it you are well?"

The old man's eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. "I am thank you. Sadly, I cannot say the same for Mr Emsworth, he passed away in the Spring."

"I am most sorry to hear that," Sauren said. "So I take it you have a new tailor?"

"I do yes. A bit more contemporary perhaps in his designs, some, I admit I find a bit dubious, but he is fitting in well enough." Mr Atherton then chuckled. "Fitting in. Oh, dear."

Sauren joined in his laughter, as did Don and eventually Reed.

"So, how can I help you today?" the old man asked once the laughter subsided.

"Well, my friend here is in need of a tasteful ensemble, but we do not have a lot of time to spare so I would request an assortment of your ready-made habiliments for him to try."

"Of course. Well, if I may take some measurements and then I will bring a selection of things for him to consider. Would you and your other friend care to take a seat, Master Sauren?"

The two young men sat down on the ornate longue and watched Mr Atherton at work. Reed was noticeably uncomfortable being the centre of attention in this way and when he was asked to which side he dressed, his face flushed a furious red. Reed asked the old tailor why he needed to know.

"Just so I don't get any nasty surprises lad, that's all," came the reply.

Sauren and Don hid their laughter behind their hands as they attempted to nonchalantly look out the window. "He's keeping those for later," Sauren snickered.

Don almost guffawed but managed to choke it down when Reed glared at him.

Finally, with tape measure slung around his shoulders, the old man disappeared into the back shop to select some items for consideration. Reed shuffled over to the two observers. "I didn't know about that measuring thing," he said quietly, still a little embarrassed.

"Well, how have you been fitted before?" Sauren asked.

"I haven't, I just bought things that looked like they'd fit or my aunt used to make my clothes when I was smaller. She used to just hold the material up against me and... well, guess, I suppose."

"Ah, I see," Sauren nodded. It was so removed from his own lifestyle and upbringing, but never did he mock those less fortunate.

Mr Atherton arrived back with a selection of garments and behind him, a young man followed with an even larger assortment.

Sauren's eyes darkened as he recognised the man. He may have grown a good few inches in all directions, developed facial hair which was well-groomed, but still, there was no mistaking who he was. Number three on "The List" - Benjamin (Ben) Morley.

Don also recognised him. He glanced at Sauren who stared back; the question in the half-elf's eyes plain to read - Did you know he worked here? Don shook his head.

Mr Atherton was busy showing Reed the collection, suggesting he try some on and led him through to where he could change. Benjamin was carefully laying the garments he'd carried through on the counter and smiled at Reed as he passed by. The smile vanished, however, when his eyes turned to the two men on the longue.

He was met by the dark and dangerous stare of Sauren Nightflame who he used to torment relentlessly when he was a young boy. Although years older, he obviously still recognised the half-breed.

Sauren's lips split in a menacing sneer as he saw beads of perspiration trickling down the new tailor's brow. Oh, how the tables have turned, he thought to himself, enjoying the young man's noticeable discomfort. "Is there something wrong?" he ventured, pointing to Benjamin.

Mr Atherton had arrived back from the rear of the shop and having overheard the question, looked at Sauren then the young tailor. Benjamin did not answer, his mouth simply fell open with no sound emanating from it.

Sauren's heightened hearing could easily make out the conversation between the old man and his employee for all they kept to subdued whispers.

"Where are your manners, Ben. Answer the gentleman," Mr Atherton insisted.

The half-elf watched as Benjamin Morley clearly writhed with humiliation and no doubt annoyance he was being informed that such a creature as he was being considered a gentleman. Benjamin fixed Sauren with a hard stare. "Nothing," he said, a little caustically.

"Sir!" his employer hissed.

"What?" Ben glared down at the old man. "Do you know what he is?"

"Both he and his father have been exceptionally good customers of mine over the years, and you shall address all my customers as Sir. Unless for some bizarre reason they are a Madam."

Sauren barely managed to suppress a smirk at Mr Atherton's reprimand. Again his eyes met with Benjamin's.

Begrudgingly, he had no choice but to do as his boss told him. "Sir!" he hissed before quickly disappearing into the rear of the premises.

Reed suddenly reappeared wearing a very fine ensemble. The trousers were dark grey with matching tailcoat; a white dress-shirt was finished with a mauve waistcoat. Mr Atherton applauded the look and Reed seemed very pleased indeed with the result. He posed and strutted the length of the shop, giving his captive audience flamboyant bows. It was then Mr Atherton did a double-take and dashed to the shelves near the window where a small selection of shoes was displayed. After careful consideration, he returned with a pair and asked Reed to try them on.

Again he was off across the floor, testing the new footwear. He looked up and saw two young women staring at him through the window. He winked and blew them a kiss. They hid blushing giggles behind their hands then hitching their skirts, hurried away.

Sauren and Don laughed at the audaciousness of his conduct and strolled over to the counter. The half-elf was most pleased by Reed's choice, he looked every part the young gentleman now.

"I take you are happy with this choice?" he asked Reed.

"Happy? I have never had such luxury before, so yes, I am most happy. Thank you."

Sauren nodded and turned to Mr Atherton who had already started wrapping Reed's old clothes up in brown paper. "I take it all these are the same size as he is wearing just now?" he waved his hand over the garments still draped over the counter.

"Yes, Master Sauren, indeed they are."

"Then kindly wrap two more pairs of trousers, two shirts and one more jacket for Mr Hale and have them delivered to the Crimson Blade headquarters please…"

"Sauren, that is too much, I cannot…" Reed protested.

The half-elf held up his hand to silence him and continued speaking with Mr Atherton. "And be so kind as to send me the bill for it all."

"Certainly, Master Sauren."

"Thank you and good day Mr Atherton." Sauren bowed to the old man.

"Thank you. As always it has been a pleasure. Please pass on my regards to your father."

"I shall. Good day."

The three rogues left the premises, the shopkeeper's bell chiming as they closed the door.

Don circled Reed, admiring his attire. He awarded him a congratulatory slap on the back.

Sauren stood silent, absentmindedly playing with the cuffs of his shirt, tugging them down below those of his jacket. His thoughts were honed in on the new tailor. Benjamin still harboured feelings of hate towards him, of that there was no doubt. That in itself did not bother him, it had been expected when he clapped eyes on him. These prejudices did not disappear, especially when they had been drilled into you from an early age. It was not just Benjamin who had offended, it was also his parents, his siblings – all four of them. Benjamin was perhaps just the most vocal of the family.

Don stepped up to him, bringing him out of his reverie. "I apologise Sauren, I did not know…"

"It is no matter, Don. We know now, that is the main thing. My main concern is that Mr Atherton is now aware of the bastard's viewpoint and the old boy just humiliated him in front of me."

"What have I missed?" Reed asked.

Sauren smiled his perfect teeth on full display. "We will bring you up to speed, worry not. But for now, let us partake of some good food and perhaps some wine if we can get away with it."

"What of the … ladies?" Reed asked, his face showing a renewed eagerness. Don blushed.

Sauren nudged his right-hand man. "Oh, I took care of that before we left the compound," he smirked. "I sent a messenger. I expect a response while we dine. I think we will be well – received. And you, Don, will be duly deflowered - until you can barely walk I would think."

Again Don's face flared red. His two companions laughed, nudging him on towards King Street and the irrefutably excellent eatery, Capital City Inn.